


goodnight

by bareunloveliness



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, HIV/AIDS, HIV/AIDS Crisis, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-01-26 17:09:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21377599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bareunloveliness/pseuds/bareunloveliness
Summary: The Roger Davis/Mark Cohen Bed-Sharing AU that only I wanted.
Relationships: April/Roger Davis, Mark Cohen & Roger Davis, Mark Cohen/Maureen Johnson, Mark Cohen/Roger Davis
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	1. 1. first night

**Author's Note:**

> So it's covered pretty early on, but this is Mark and Roger's first meeting. Collins, Benny, and Roger got an apartment together, and then one of Collins' friends told him about this fellow anarchist Maureen who was looking for a place to crash. And then Maureen's high school best friend who did NOT have a thing for her also needs a place to live.  
Roger has met April, but they aren't really a thing yet. She shows up to his concerts. He has not yet been diagnosed, if he has it yet.  
I know that bed-sharing AUs can make some people uncomfortable, so don't like, don't read.  
(i don't know how long this will be or if i'll ever even add onto it, but it's nanowrimo so shit happens.)  
(also the formatting is shit but that's not my fault. it is my fault taht im not fixing it tho)

The apartment only had four bedrooms.

This wasn’t a problem, necessarily, until Maureen invited her childhood best friend to move in during the same week that a raccoon made its way into the couch (Collins had got to learn that there are better places to stash food when he was high) and proceeded to die.

“He’s your friend, he’s sleeping in your bed,” Benny pointed out, ever the voice of reason. “This is non-negotiable.”

“You’re going to make a man sleep in my bed?” Maureen said, playing the woman card. “That’s absolutely not going to happen. I think that’s a violation of my civil rights.”

Collins raised an eyebrow. “No, it’s- it’s absolutely not.”

Maureen was very firm on this front- under no circumstances should the woman of the apartment not get her own room and her own space. It was, unfortunately, a valid point.

“I’m a kicker,” Benny admitted. “If the new guy wants sleep, he’s not sharing with me.”  
“I only have a twin sized bed—that’s just not realistic.” Collins said, leaning across the armchair, pretending like it was a reasonable substitution for his beloved couch. It wasn’t.

All eyes turned to Roger.

“Goddammit, whatever.”

He wasn’t above letting a stranger sleep in his bed, as technically, it wasn’t an unheard-of occurrence. Usually, he’d like to buy them dinner first, but this would do.

Even though it was just a move from Scarsdale, Mark Cohen didn’t get in until well past one in the morning- his mom had procrastinated the whole event as long as she could, not truly wanting to say goodbye to her sweet child. Her efforts to get him to stay were ultimately in vain, as the taxi (payed for by his mom) pulled to the front of the apartment, which was falling apart at the seams. He made his way up, and entered with his scratched up new key, given to him previously by Maureen.

His eyes darted immediately to the strange glass box that called the kitchen its home, but he moved quickly onto trying to figure out – silently – which room he’d be staying in. They wer labeled like college dorms, with creative signs pointing guests in the right direction. Maureen’s name was written onto a paper cut out of a very detailed penis, while Roger’s was scratched into the door with a knife.

Great. _What a non-threatening roommate. _

With caution, Mark knocked on his door.

Without a care in the world, Roger opened it.

He had already changed into sweatpants and a tank, lazy stubble dotted around his chin, as heavy circles hung under his eyes. He hadn’t yet taken out his single golden hoop of an earring (a small hoop, but don’t be fooled). “You’re on the left.”

What was it about men who looked like they hadn’t had a solid meal in week that caught Mark’s attention?

“I’m Mark,” he said, as if that wasn’t a given.

“I’d hope so.”

Roger was less than impressed by the squeaky-clean nerd who found his way into _his _room, and _chose_ to live a life of squalor, even when his family would be more than happy to have him live off their fat paychecks for as long as he wanted. It was a privilege that Roger couldn’t dream of, but could judge infinitely.

He moved back into the space, which genuinely appeared like that of a teenage boy, specifically one dealing with his parents’ divorce. Rock posters were plastered on the walls, some of the bands so alternative that Mark didn’t even recognize them. There was no clear stench, which relieved Mark, but it wasn’t exactly fresh as a daisy. There weren’t even windows.

The only reason Roger hadn’t gone out that night was because the girl he was sort of seeing (but not officially) decided she wanted to stay in with her roommate. She avoided the question as to why, but Roger gathered that her roommate had an unfortunate diagnosis. He didn’t really know April’s roommate- met her maybe once or twice.

“Most nights I’m back around three or four,” he told Mark. “I’d try to be quiet, but that’s just not realistic.”

“Are you planning on being high or drunk?”

“Crossed if I smoke, but I’m leaning towards something harder. You don’t mind, right?”

Mark bit his lower lip- weed was the hardest drug in his neighborhood, and even that was villainized. He couldn’t just say that though- especially when Roger was letting him crash there. “Yeah, whatever.” He squeaked out as nonchalantly as he good. He sat on his side of the bed, straight as a board.

Roger stifled a laugh, not believing it for a second. “If you ever want to experiment with drugs or whatever, by the way, I got you. First try free. I’ll even get you a clean needle.” See, now it was just _fun_ to watch Mark’s eyes widen. Had the kid ever even left his house? _Kid_. As if Roger wasn’t maybe two years older at the most. But he had seen shit and he had done shit. Maybe it aged him, or maybe he was just a cynical asshole.

“I prefer alcohol,” he said, which was substantially true. He drank a lot in high school- that was his escape from the _perfect fucking life_ his parents set up for him. Maureen knew people- she knew everyone. “Ask Maureen. I black out.”

“A regular alcoholic, I approve,” Roger half-joked. He flicked the light off and crawled into his side of the bed. “How do you know Maureen again?”

The question was surprisingly loaded, but Mark expected it- or that Maureen had told them either the most twisted or the most embarrassing version of the story possible. It was easier, at least, for Mark to answer in the dark, looking up at the ceiling, which could have been painted a million colors for all he knew- it was pitch black. “We uh, went to high school together. And middle school, technically, but neither of us care to mention that.”

“High school Maureen. Was she popular or what?”

Mark snorted. “Amongst a certain crowd. Queen of the Burnouts, especially junior year. She could make any guy in the room give her their blunt with the bat of her eyes.” Mark smiled to himself as he reminisced. He hadn’t seen her more than twice in the last year, and she managed to be ever-changingly exactly the same. He didn’t understand the woman, if she was even human, and not some kind of trickster sprite or some shit.

“Sweet Jesus, you had a thing for her.” Roger rolled his eyes (God Bless the Dark) at the very idea that the stupid nerd kid he had to share a bed with was madly in love with his roommate. Or at least he was horny at one point in high school, which, weren’t they all? “Please tell me that’s history.”

“History has to happen for it to be history,” Mark reasoned, a little humiliated at himself for sharing this shit on _the first night_. Who does that? “And nothing happened. I think there was one game of “Spin the Bottle”, but even that was- in a word- disappointing.” _She didn’t even use tongue. On me. But everyone else got to fucking second base. Whatever. I’m not bitter about it. _

“She’s probably the kind of girl who’s a real good lay, but while you’re fucking her, you realize that the reason she got so good was with a history.” Roger thought this through a loud, which—on some level – disturbed and potentially aroused Mark. It had been such a long day that he didn’t think he knew the different. “If you think about it.”

“What if, hear me out, instead of thinking about it, we _went the fuck to sleep_?”

“Whatever.”

“Goodnight.”

No, Roger was not the kind of person to say _goodnight_ like he was the fucking moon. Especially in the dark, in a bed, with a stranger, and not like a hot one-night stand from The Pyramid Club, but Maureen’s dorky high school friend who definitely was in love with her to some extent. It was lame and awkward, and he wasn’t about to say it back. That would create a power imbalance- that the 19-year-old who invented the term ‘paste-eater’ could get the addict to say ‘goodnight’. Why the fuck would he say it back? There’s no reason! There’s just no goddamn reason. Other than the fact that it would hang in the air, like a windchime that was just broken enough to be hanging by a thread but still making noise during a breeze, but that would happen regardless of whether or not he said it back, the only different being whose voice was holding it in the air.

“Goodnight,” said Roger.


	2. first morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and Maureen try to solve a riddle, and the answer pushes Maureen and Mark back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohohohoh imagine if i was CONSISTENT

_ Wait, I didn't get fucked up last night. _

Half awake, Roger forgot for a moment between being asleep and awake that Maureen's high school friend had arrived. He wasn't going to wake Mark up- he was so peaceful and maybe even drooling. 

"How's your new friend?" Maureen asked the disgruntled 'rock star' as he made his way into the kitchen. "Did you stay up all night talking about boys?"  
"No," Roger spat back, playful venom on his lips. "But he definitely has it bad for you."

She pouted, pouring cereal into a bowl of milk. "And can you blame him?"

"You're not going to torture him, are you?" 

"Only when we have a safe word."

"Seriously, Maureen, don't fuck with his feelings." Roger didn't care, exactly- not in a personal way. But the transition between money and the lack thereof that was about to hit Mark like a ton of bricks was going to be rough, and he didn't need to deal with Maureen's web on top of that. "He's like a- like a baby hedgehog. And you're a stripper heel. Do not step on him."

"Oh my God, he is like a baby hedgehog." She said, gushing over him. "No, he's adorable. I thought he was cute in high school, but I also thought he was gay, so I never made a move." Maureen spoke with a mouthful of cereal.

"Would you have? He doesn't seem like your type." He rummaged through the fridge to find vanilla yogurt, the only kind they had. Collins ate the Strawberry-Banana variety the moment they bought it.

"He could have been." She missed him, she realized now- more than she cared to admit. He was there for her every night that one of those boys who were her 'type' crushed her. It's hard to imagine now, someone being able to crush Maureen, but even though spiders can catch flies, a lot of things can catch spiders. She remembered nights upon nights with her head in his lap, as he played with her hair and she drank rose that he bought from his older sister. She thought so often of reaching up and kissing him, but never wanted to risk the friendship. She couldn't imagine having That Conversation, especially if he was afraid to come out to her.

"Honestly though, you're right. I was so afraid of stepping on him. He's so sweet."

Roger dug into his yogurt. "He's a dork. And a wimp. And probably a virgin."

"You know, I'm not sure." 

At the crux of the conversation, Mark stumbled into the kitchen, slightly less peaceful than Roger had thought. The mattress was probably not what he was used to. "Good morning." Is that something people said in their shitty Alphabet City studio? It was now.

"Good morning. Are you a virgin?" Maureen asked as she poured him a cup of coffee. The grounds were old but they still had caffeine and that's what really mattered- not the flavor. 

He was still half asleep, and hadn't even put his glasses on yet. It was 'basic' to say, but he really could not function until he had his coffee. "No. How'd you sleep last night?"

"Alone," she answered, to which Roger shot her a glare. "So are you gay?"

"What's with the interrogation? Did someone die and blame it on a gay virgin?" He asked, taking the mug. "Do you have sugar?"

Maureen passed the newest roommate a sugar packet, stolen from their local Starbucks, and looked at him for a moment, as if she had never seen him before in her life and would have to recall what he looked like to a sketch artist. "You're strange."

"Am I?" he said, beginning to drink the world's shittiest cup of coffee. "Noted."

Roger nodded solemnly. "I have to agree with her on that one. But, you didn't answer the question."

Mark was well aware of this, and it was entirely his intention. Why was this a topic of interest to these two? He couldn't imagine. At least, he couldn't imagine any realistic situation. "Huh, I guess I didn't."

_ Beat. _

"Are you going to, Pookie?" Maureen batted her eyelashes at him, as it was her previously mentioned superpower. Her high school nickname for him escaped her pursued lips and colored his cheeks magenta. "Okay, so you're at least into women."

"That's- that's not fair." Mark stammered. 

Roger chuckled- Maureen's old high school friend must have forgotten that she plays dirty. 

"It's very fair. Roger, flirt with him and see if he does the same thing."

Seeing no harm in that, Roger stood up and let his face harden into the smolder he had perfected. Of course, Mark wasn't his usual target, as there wasn't people like him at most of the places that Roger lurked around.

He was good at using props in these sorts of challenges- a guitar, a condom, whatever was around.

And right now, all he had was his breakfast.

He scooped a dollop of yogurt onto his pointer finger and positioned his lips around it before starting-

Mark did the smart thing and confessed before anything  _ painfully  _ revealing happened. 

"I'm bisexual, Maureen. We're done here," he said shortly before taking his coffee and retiring to the shared room.

"With a preference for men, apparently." Roger mumbled with a half-smile. "That was very telling."

"And you were afraid  _ I  _ was going to torture him." She said, leaving her empty bowl in the sink and heading to the other room.

"What are you going to do to him?"

"I haven't decided yet.

And as she left the very confused man to finish his yogurt alone, she knocked on the door and closed it behind her as she entered. Mark was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

"You okay?" she said, laying down beside him like they used to do in the park at midnight, waiting for his mom to pick them up. Instead of trees and stars above, it was only a popcorn ceiling.

"I mean, when I pictured coming out to you for like four years in high school, that's not what I had in mind. But I'm glad I did it."

"Me too. I always thought you were gay."

He said up on the side of the bed. "Really? And you never said anything?"

"Right, because you said something to me when I'd get drunk and kiss girls," she retorted, sitting up too match him. "We both knew that wasn't some experimentation. Maybe it was for them, but for me…"

"I thought it might have been. For you." He admitted, realizing that he didn't know her as well as he thought he did. He idolized her in their early years together instead of getting to know her. "But it wasn't?"

"No, I love girls. Generally speaking. I haven't yet though. Actually loved one. Or anyone for that matter." She found herself unnaturally reflective that morning, and maybe that was just what the presence of your past did to you.

"I thought I loved Nanette. But that's just how this bitch of a life is when you're thirteen." He cracked a smile and a joke.

"Oh my God, I forgot about Nanette. I totally thought that was all a facade. Like, you were just pretending to like her." Maureen laughed, leaning forward as her smile broke over her face. "She was totally your type though."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mark asked, a little more alarmed than he meant to. As far as he was concerned,  _ Maureen _ was his type. People who were probably bad for him, with cigarette breath, and would push him to be a little crazier than he should be. That was his type.

"She was a good Jewish kid who also happened to be our valedictorian. You're a good Jewish kid who happened to be our salutatorian."

"If it wasn't for that fucking French class… it's not my fault that she spent a semester abroad…"

"Good to know you're not bitter."

"You know what I am bitter about though? For real?" He said, recalling the conversation he had with Roger the night before and what he didn't say.  
"What?"

"That you never actually kissed me."

Maureen's eyes widened- and he had never seen that before. "What are you talking about? Wasn't there that one-"

"That game of  _ Spin the Bottle _ ? We both know that wasn't an actual kiss."

"I didn't want any to pressure you to confess to anything you weren't ready to. I wasn't ready to accept you as anything but my friend."

"You were afraid I'd tell you I was gay?"

"I was afraid you'd tell me you were straight. And I'd have to deal with that. So no, I didn't put your hands on my chest- is that what you're bitter about?"

"Well- less so now that you've explained why!" He actually felt a little bad about making  _ her  _ feel bad about it. She was trying to protect both of them, and all this time, he thought he was just fucking up over and over again and she found him repulsive. "That's- that's a really good reason."

"Do you want me to kiss you now?"

He realized he was still on the left side of the bed and imagined who usually took the right.

But now, after years of not knowing, he realized he probably fell in love with Maureen somewhere down the line. 

"Yes."

She leaned forward, closing her eyes and entangling her hand into his hair, pressing their lips together and kissing him like she should have years before. And he kissed back, thankful to have had more experience between their first attempt and now- it would have been a mess. She pulled away after a few moments, realizing she had moved herself onto his lap.

"Hmm. That was… fun."

"Don't sound so surprised," Mark chuckled, biting his lower lip.

"Good morning," she said to him and to herself as she lifted herself off of him, almost glowing as she left the room.

"Good morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: don't forget to give maureen a personality outside of cheating  
also me: what if she was a plot device to so roger can't have mark making him want him more  
also also me: fuck i love maureen and she loves mark to a point  
anyway. tumblr is bareunloveliness again but im also on incorrectmarkerquotes

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @ virginwhocantdrivee or my Marker Blog @ incorrectmarkerquotes (which i share with @ wlwtunny who is the roger to my mark but no homo)


End file.
